Searching for Sacred

I am recognizing two large pieces of baggage which are growing quite uncomfortable in my backpack.  I think it is time to stop and unload a bit.  The first piece is a massive, heavy blob of seeking acceptance from others.  So much of my "achievement" list is rooted in trying to get an affirmation from others, or at least allowing letters behind my name be proof enough that I am worthy, competent, and have something to offer the world.  So much of my tendencies toward gossip and putting others down is rooting in finding acceptance.  If I slam someone down behind their back and get you to agree with me that person X is the biggest jerk in the world, then I know you are on my side. I feel a little less alone and a lot more affirmed.  Until guilt sets in and I feel bad for speaking so negatively about another person. And if I feel myself a failure, or allow myself to get too comfortable with my insecurities, then I search for faults in others in order to fee...

I left at 5:04 yesterday morning.  This is a journey of prayer, fasting, and an openness to the unexpected.  For me, prayer is including Liturgy of the Hours (readings/prayer at 6, 9, 12, 3, 6, and 9pm.)  There is an app called the Laudate that is free and will provide the readings for you.  My fasting is eating vegan/raw foods with exception to the Thanksgiving feast I plan on enjoying with my family.  I am still drinking coffee, but thinking this might eventually need to go as well.  As most pilgrimages require some type of physical endurance, I am also exercising at least 30 minutes/day. In my "backpack" -- the Liturgy of the Hours, The Inner Voice of Love by Henri Nouwen.  Other books on prayer, fasting, and saints.  The destination is December 17 (that's 49 days from now).  This will enter into Advent and preparation to meet the Baby Jesus. A report from day 1:  I was cranky and short with everyone around me.  Not exact...

When I picture the life I believe God has called me to live, I see a woman who has dignity and respect for others.   I see a woman who approaches those around her with gentleness, grace, and compassion.   I envision a woman who is not ashamed of her faith; whose life is a prayer offering.   When I reflect on this image, I am filled with assurance.   Yes, I am called to live this way.   I fall way short. In reality, I am no different that St. Peter.   I deny Christ and the life I have been called to live.   I sacrifice my identity, my integrity, and my source of true vitality in exchange for a quick laugh and fleeting approval from others. Hello, my name is Heather, and I am a sinner.    Over the past several weeks, the theme of pilgrimage has invaded my thoughts.   It started with a couple of movies, Into the Wild (about a young man who wanders the country and finally Alaska living off the land) and The Way (a film abou...

It’s Halloween time – time for costumes, pumpkins, apple bobbing   . . . and this year in our house, the first trip to the Children’s   Museum haunted house.   I am not the biggest fan of Halloween.   Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing all the creativity in costumes and sneaking a few Reece Cups from my children’s stashes, but I hate the scary side of the holiday.   Horror films?   No thank you.   I have seen enough real life scary things, I do not wish to voluntarily subject myself to further hair-raising, oh-no-I-pooped myself activities.   But I have children; children who love all the festivities of Halloween ghosts and goblins.    The haunted house.   Back in July, my children participated in the library summer reading program and one of the prizes was free tickets to the haunted house.   I remember going when I was about their age – witches having tea parties, ghosts doing a little jig.   They were excited t...

Yesterday was the Feast of St. Therese, “The Little Flower.”   Having the honor of working a few hours a week at a Catholic school in Kokomo, I had the privilege of being present as the Serra Club and Father Bennett provided a lunch celebration for the female students.   They served ham sandwiches cut in the shape of flowers and cupcakes with a floral swirl on top.   They shared photos and stories from the three young women from Kokomo now a part of a religious order.   The heart of the event – listen to God’s call on your life and follow it.     Everyone is called into a vocation.   Everyone has a plan and purpose for their lives.   Our job is simple.   We are to listen and obey. The job is simple, but not always easy.   Listening means being quiet and making space to hear.   We live in a culture that prides itself in our rushing to the next activity.   “How are you doing?”   Answer, “Busy, so busy and exhausted...

“At heart, envy boils down to this: everyone else has it easier than I do.   And so they are obviously happier than I am.”   -- James Martin, The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Anything.   Envy always seems to be with me.   To paraphrase one of my favorite priests, it is my default sin.   The one that keeps coming back no matter how many times I confess it, how many times I try and avoid it, there it is again rooting its ugly head.   With envy, there is a tendency to maximize my own difficulties and minimize my blessings while at the same time, maximize another’s blessing and minimize their difficulties.   My life is hard.   It is a unique hard.   It is a hard like no one else has. Envy is comparison.   If only I were more outgoing, less chubby, less awkward, more confident . . . blah, blah, blah.   This implies that somehow, how I was made, how I am built, and how I tick is not good enough.   My personality type is an INF...

Every few months I get the “weepies.”    It is that feeling that something is wrong, things are out of whack, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.   My weeps usually last a couple of days and then all returns to normal.   I typically blame it on hormones – PMS, premenopausal junk . . . and it is possible that this is not helping.    And without a uterus, it is a little difficult to know exactly what is happening physiologically with my body.   For the few days of the weeps, I do not talk much, making a PBJ is a chore, and I am completely irritable and impatient with everyone around me.   And every time it comes, I ride it out knowing it will only last a couple of days, and then when the storm clouds pass over, I return to life.   In other words, do not try and understand it; do not try and fix it. This time was different.   One, my mom saw it written across my face.   She usually does and lets me be (smart woman!)  ...

Lent seemed especially long this year.  I found myself growing angry and irritable towards the end.  Perhaps this had to do with my inability/unwillingness to actually surrender my sugar addiction.  Or maybe it was the lack of morning coffee and thus my morning routine of having a few cups alone in peace and quiet before the rest of my household woke up.  Or perhaps it was the fact that this winter seemed to stretch an exceptionally long time.  Snow on Palm Sunday . . . a foot of snow by that Monday.   I like snow.  In fact, I love snow.  A foot of snow at the end of March when I am ready to prep the garden, well, that is an entirely different story. Now that we are in the midst of the Easter season, I can look back with 20/20 hindsight and observe. My first observation:  I still try on my own accord to be a disciplined person and I fail miserably.  When I think about the source of my motivations, they are rooted more in being...